"Now, was that a good idea?"
"No, Amelia," the two soggy teens answered in unison, teeth chattering as they hugged the blankets around their sodden clothes.
"Did you learn a valuable lesson?"
"Yes, Amelia," they replied.
"Which was?" Amelia asked, glaring at the two miscreants.
Vieno and Frisket exchanged glances, then failed to suppress their grins.
"Cheat better!" said the dwarf.
"More firepower!" answered the goblin.
Amelia grinned widely and grabbed them both in a hug. "That's my girls! Deal me in next time, okay? Maybe if everyone gangs up on him, we can teach that kid a lesson!"
"Fat chance, sugar toes! But anytime yous guys wanna go, I'm in. Mebbe if you get good enough, I can start using real spells on you, 'stead of my piddly water balloon spells."
"And you!" Amelia rounded on the goat. "I see through your adorableness. No! Don't do the eye thing -- I'm immune to that stuff, remember?"
"Gotta admit it's cute, though, dontcha?" Pancake responded, batting his big round eyes and wiggling his nub of a tail.
"No, I do not! Did you finish putting all the stands back and drying everything out? They'd just finished setting up when you happened!"
"Hey now, sister! I didn't start it! I just ... ahem ... washed the slate clean, sort of thing."
Amelia glanced between the protesting kid and the shivering, giggling teens, then just shook her head. "I have no idea why I expected any of you to act like adults. I'm not mad, mind you! I'm just ... well, why am I the one lecturing you guys?"
"Uh, because you rule this realm?" ventured Vieno, barely vocalizing the following "d'uh!".
"'Cause you got a monopoly on the treat supply here 'bouts, sweet cheeks."
"Because you have an entourage of inscrutable forces and are an eldritch, tenebrous, and Brobdingnagian power?" suggested Frisket, who'd been on a Lovecraft binge again.
Amelia gaped at the three, struggling to find ways to refute their statements. Finally, she just shrugged.
"I'm not even really an adult, you know? Just a kid in this sorta adult-ish body? I'm just making it up as I go!" she lamented softly.
"Preach it dere, toots! 'S what I been sayin' for eons. Does anybody listen though? Nope! Nobody cares. Big, cruel universe just keeps pilin' it on!"
"Zip it! Don't make me find out if I can banish you or not, you got me? Here, have a toffee and scram!" She peeled the wrapper from one of the sweets and tossed it to Pancake, who expertly leapt to snatch it out of the air before the zooming forms of Whisper and Fern could intercept the candy.
"I thought it was wet in Blighty! That was some freak flash flood, deary!" remarked Sandy as the goat gamboled away, chewing happily as he dodged under the guy lines for the canopies.
"Nope, just a freak Pancake. He's a weird one, alright!" Amelia watched the kid disappear into the crowd, then knelt down and scritched Shock's ears. "You remember V and Frisket, Sandy?"
"Of course poppet! How could I forget such darling wee ones!" The apple-cheeked woman smiled down at the girls. She had a hard time remembering that even though the goblin and dwarf girls were half the size of humans their age, they were still teenagers.
The two gave a neatly synchronized, nearly audible eye roll.
"Right. Well, I gotta get back to the stall. No fair making Nic run the whole thing. I'd ask you lot to stay out of trouble, but no need to waste my breath. See you!" Amelia waved as she headed back towards the chocolate booth.
"Trouble, eh? Now I feel obliged to find some! Wanna join me, dearies?" she heard Sandy say as she wove through the crowd.
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The adventurers were still crowded around the booth when she returned, talking shop with Nic and speculating about different uses for enchanted chocolate in dangerous situations. She thought she saw one of them furtively hiding one of the phials from Briar, but decided not to ask. Probably safer for all involved that way.
"I'm guessing that was the goat Vieno and Frisket were telling us about? The one that taught them those incredible spells?" asked Nidra as Amelia pulled on an apron as she stepped back behind the counter.
"Pancake? Yeah, he's one of our magic tutors. His stuff is the most showy, but I think what Lark teaches is gonna be more powerful in the end. But I gotta admit the various bolt and shield spells are sure handy! And you wouldn't believe how useful Candle Flame is once you can adjust it! Bellows was telling me one of his students in the smithy uses it as a cutting torch!"
"Where did he learn that stuff? I've been around, being an adventurer and all, and I've never seen anything like it. Sure, in games and stories and such, but not for real!" Larsen asked, moving closer and looking earnest.
"No idea. I've asked, but he just claims it's the power of cuteness or some such hokum. Feel free to ask him yourself. He's partial to bribes, just between us. If you know some good dirty jokes, that'd be a good start. Oh, and try getting him warmed up with some of Tuuka's strongest. Just, you know, don't try to keep up with him. He's got the body of a baby goat, but drinks like a boatful of thirsty satyrs, know what I'm sayin'?" Amelia winked. "Not that we don't have some heavy drinkers around here, but that guy is something else!"
Nic nodded, pocketing his flask after having a nip. "Yup. Freak 'o nature, that thing is. Dat's comin' from an expert, too!" The undead ratman turned back to his chocolate arranging.
The group of adventurers traded looks, lost for words. They had been expecting a little strangeness, but it just kept building, layer upon layer.
Nidra cleared her throat. "So, uh, what do you have planned next?"
"A few more hours here in the shop, maybe some more wandering around if things get slow. I want to see what they have set up over in Bury Ardith. Don't want to miss out on any good snacking opportunities, you know? Then the competition starts at noon, so I'll be doing that the rest of the day."
"Which one? I saw posters for several," asked Larsen. He was having a hard time picturing the unassuming caretaker in the wrestling (arm and Greco-Roman) matches, and he hoped she wasn't the type for Morris dancing.
"Hedge laying!" Amelia answered brightly, holding up the billhook she'd retrieved from under the counter. It wasn't the one she'd originally found in the cottage, but instead a gift from Mr. Ainsley, who had a huge collection of them. They'd spent a pleasant afternoon a few weeks ago drinking tea and going through his assortment of gardening and military bills, discussing the pros and cons of each style. The one from the cottage was a Suffolk pattern, sharp on the inwardly curved side, with a notch at the end for pushing down the pleachers (a term for the tree or shrub being laid). The one he'd gifted her was a Yorkshire pattern, with a longer handle and straight, sharp back edge. Nowhere near as sharp as Jam Spreader, of course. She'd tried using the spear in its dagger form, but it sheared through trunks as if they weren't there, which defeated the whole point. You had to leave a strip of bark and core wood so it wouldn't die, eventually forming a living fence. Lopping the whole thing off was viewed as bad form.
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Larsen gaped at her as she expounded on the features of the tool, still speechless.
"There is a local group that a few from Eldertown participate with. With Elara's help, we set up identical hedge plantings so it'll be the most fair competition ever! You guys should come watch for a bit. It's fun! We'll be at it for hours, so feel free to wander by, cheer us on!"
They exchanged glances again, smiling.
"We'll do that! We'll leave you to your chocolating, and drop by later!" Larsen said, waving as the group ambled off.
"Bye! See you shortly!" Amelia waved back, already busy handing out chocolate samples to other passersby.
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The visit to the Bury Ardith was a little underwhelming, but Amelia would never admit that to anyone. It was slightly larger than the new town in Elara but didn't have all the added colour that the inhabitants of the Hollows added. They were very nice people, and she had a nice time meeting and visiting. The dancing was nice, the entertainment was nice, and the food was nice. Nice, but just a little drab. Amelia wandered from booth to booth, knot of partiers to clutch of gossipers, and couldn't quite put her finger on what was wrong. Everyone seemed to be having a great time, and nothing obviously was off, but it seemed just a little less, somehow. Not quite up to the standards of the Hollows.
It wasn't until she wandered out into one of the fields on the edge of the festival, beyond the boundary of territory she and the cores had claimed, that she finally realized the issue. The realm of Whimsy, while wonderful, fantastical, and beyond her imagination even just a few months ago, felt stretched thin. Magical, but, to paraphrase the words of a fictional hobbit, like too little jam spread over too much bread.
Despite being the caretaker of one realm and the bonded one of two others--one of whom, admittedly, wasn't placed and was on the odder end of the spectrum--she still felt like she knew next to nothing about them. Or about other bonded ones--or dungeon masters, or whatever you chose to call them. Were they all 'hands-on'? Did they all worry about everything going on? Or were they more the 'benign neglect' sort of managers? Were they even necessary?
And what kinds of differences were there between realms? What was 'normal', for lack of a better term? Supposedly, 'rooms' were an important component, and having a self-contained dungeon-like layout such as Elara mostly had made the most sense. More rooms, more inhabitants, more action, more power. More options, as far as she could tell. Elara's original layout also illustrated another issue--the bigger the realm, the more it took to run it, more maintenance, etc. Yet here was Whimsy, as far from a 'dungeon' as you could get. Towns, fields, forests. A few locations that could be called dungeons, but few and far between. How did this place power itself? It made no sense. She'd asked Pola and Pancake about it, but nobody knew why there seemed to be a difference. Or if there even was one.
But she suspected the feeling she got from Whimsy now was the feel of a realm that was out of control, or poorly managed, or just dwindling. She'd have never noticed something like that before but was getting attuned to such things these days. Amelia stood and just 'felt' the ambience out in the field for a few minutes, trying to nail down the difference, but finally gave up. It was different and didn't feel right. That was the best she could define it. Perhaps just not 'home', as oversimplified as that might be.
As she passed back into 'her' area of the village, she could feel that background oddity still, making everything seem just a little off. She suspected if she asked Melissa or one of the other engineers to check, there'd be a leak of energy coming out of this place as if Whimsy was leaching power from here. It was just a suspicion, but she was fairly confident she was correct. That was something to keep an eye on. Elara was getting better as they reworked sections and added happy inhabitants, but she didn't need more energy problems if she could help it.
Regardless of the feelings and suspicions, she kept a smile on her face as she toured the festivities, ate way too many tasty things, and enjoyed looking at the handicrafts and wares the villagers had out on display. It was nice.
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"Hoom! You may begin, ahoom hoom!" boomed Alder, who was supervising the competition. He'd been politely disqualified earlier since he could just ask the trees and shrubs to weave themselves, which they performed perfectly in a near instant. The visiting competitors had watched in amazement as he demonstrated all the various styles, although his versions didn't use the traditional stakes. It was unanimously agreed that he was the perfect judge.
Each participant had a lengthy row of young saplings, a mixture of shrubs and interspersed trees, mostly prickly ones like Blackthorn and Hawthorn. They had five and a half hours to lay a fixed length of hedgerow, as neatly and tidily as possible. By random choice, they had to use the Midland Bullock style, with its distinctive hazel binders at the top.
Usually, the competitions were held on farms or along roads, years after the initial plantings. With Elara's help, though, Amelia was able to generate rows of identical saplings to work with, so nobody could complain they had an easier or harder time of it. Of course, Elara could just create the hedgerows without the hard work involved, but where would the fun be in that?
Amelia watched for a moment as the competitors ambled off to their assigned sections, casually eyeing the work to be done and thinking ahead. It was more of a marathon than a sprint, with plenty of breaks for tea, bracing soup, and crusty bread--the traditional fare at such dos. The competitors were friendly, keeping an eye out on each other for safety, and trading banter as they worked. Comradery and a cozy atmosphere made the physical labor seem much easier, and visible progress just spurred each competitor to keep working. It was wonderful!
She'd learned a little of the craft from Gran ages ago but had learned more from Mr. Ainsley when she found out he was a devoted master of it. The basic principles were simple enough, but it took lots of practice and experience to do a stellar job. They hadn't had much need for hedgerows in the Hollow before, but with the addition of the fields in Elara, she felt as caretaker she should be able to help out in the laying and maintaining. And it was good fun! After a day's hard work, you could see the difference you'd made, which was a part of caretaking she loved.
It always made her feel a little guilty, cutting or pruning trees, now that she was friends with Alder. He assured her not to worry, that this was their purpose, and they didn't feel pain like animals did. It was a lengthy explanation, involving perception of time, lack of 'pain receptors', and several other factors that mostly went over her head. She took his word that it was okay but still felt a little bad. Forcing living things into a fence seemed wrong, somehow, although it provided a marvelous habitat for all sorts of wild and plant life.
Amelia got to work, trimming excess branches as she eyed where the current pleacher would be placed. You had to lay so the stems pointed uphill, so the sap would flow correctly. Too flat (or downhill!) and the plant would die. So the goal was to notch the stem enough to bend it over to about thirty degrees, weaving its branches into its neighbor and between the supporting stakes. New shoots would grow from the trimmed branches, intermeshing the barrier even more firmly over the years. A stem would also grow from the flat section by the notch, shooting straight upwards. That would be used in future years to maintain and fill any gaps that opened up.
It was precise work, and took some effort, but was pleasant and left plenty of time to enjoy being out in nature. Work proceeded at a relaxed, but determined, pace. No reason not to use the whole time allotted!
There were quite a few onlookers, most of whom would stand and watch for a few minutes before wandering off. It was interesting to see, if not exactly riveting. Alder acted as spokesperson as well, describing the work each was doing, the various styles, and other colour commentary. The competitors would chat or gossip when they weren't concentrating. Mr. Ainsley sang while he worked, beautiful old folk tunes in a language nobody understood, but still delightful to listen to.
All in all, it was a pleasant day for all involved, and time flew by as it tends to do at such things.
In the end, a young lad she didn't know won the competition. Her own work had been judged competent, but not quite as tidy as the winner. She suspected Mr. Ainsley had deliberately underperformed, as she'd seen his work before. He seemed thrilled to be taking part, an oddity for the usually solitary inhabitants of the hollow. It was nice to see at least a few getting out and making friends!
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The grand feast for dinner was a huge success. There were foods from all the various stalls, showcased along with Tyni's usual masterpieces. Trestle tables groaned under the weight of all the provender, next to mighty casks of Tuuka's finest. As everyone ate, there were several different entertainments provided. The theatre troupe performed a few short scenes, then several of the inhabitants took turns singing. Amelia was surprised when Sar stood and recited an epic poem the ettin had composed, detailing the events of their time away from the hollow. She'd heard a few bits and pieces, but it seemed they'd left out quite a bit of adventure. Possible to save her nerves, but she didn't mind. It was a wonderful story, and the crowd responded so well that Sar was persuaded to give an encore performance. He had a deep, baritone voice, with a slow speech cadence that leant itself well to the spoken word form.
Amelia collapsed into bed late that night, Pancake and Shock already passed out in a cute little pile. It had been a wonderful day, with lots of friends and bonds being made, which had been the whole point. Community for the win! There hadn't been any major calamities, all things considered. Which was just the way she liked it. Being the one in charge was wholly overrated, in her opinion. She could understand why people kept looking to her for direction, but she was happiest when they figured things out for themselves. Helping was wonderful, of course, but it was always better to help those who were willing to help themselves!